Taking a break

I will be back soon! I'm slammed at work and in my 2nd job as a photographer and need to catch the heck up! I'm also in a pretty good place mentally. I have one friend who had her baby a couple months ago and one preparing to deliver, and while I'm obviously insanely jealous, I'm also happy for them. I miss Caleb and think about where I should be at in my life every day, but...it's not as soul-sucking as it was. I just don't have a lot to post about right now.  That might change tomorrow and I need an outlet again, but for today: nothing.

So for anyone who is just starting this journey: it does get easier. It won't go away - I can't imagine it ever will, but it does get easier.

People are Good.

That friend, "Sally"?

She amazed me today. I'd posted a link to "Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope" on Facebook and forgotten that my story on there linked back to this blog. I'd never meant for her to see anything that I posted - this was my place to vent about things that might be misunderstood by outsiders.

But she saw it.

She saw everything.

And she wrote me a beautiful, sincere apology. I was visiting my grandma in the hospital (recovering from hernia surgery) so I couldn't call, but I immediately texted her to let her know I got it and how much her words meant to me. We had an open, emotional exchange and I felt so much better afterward. I hope she did too.

Looking back at what I wrote now that we've talked, I'm ashamed. I considered deleting it all. But you know what? It was honest and raw, and what I was feeling. I'm sure it hurt her to read it; it hurt me to write it and to experience it. Of course, I never meant for it to be painful for her - just a catharsis for me - but in the end, I'm glad for both of us. It healed a wound and closed the book on a chapter that was extremely difficult for me. And okay, the wound probably isn't completely scabbed over and the book isn't closed all the way, but the process has begun. When we were talking I got excited to see her baby belly and meet her little man in a few months. I know it will never be easy - she's living the life I should be living, that I WANT to be living more than anything - but I'm still looking forward to it. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself. And I am. I think. Right?

Life, as it happens.

Since having a huge, epic cry over finding out that our "friend" is having a boy, I've been doing pretty good. And I have to give a shout out to Chris (who doesn't read this, but I still feel the need to give props) for dealing with me that night. I know he didn't quite understand where I was coming from, but he just let me cry and held me, which is exactly what I needed. And in the morning, I felt better. I won't say I'm entirely at peace with the fact that they're having a son (and that she's blogging about "folding cute, little clothes for my son...my special little gift to come.") but I got most of the emotions out during TearFest July 2010 and have been feeling pretty great since then.

I've talked a little bit before about our plans for any future pregnancies and what we've been doing thus far. I would wear a dirty diaper on my head if it meant that I would have a take-home baby in the future. I'd accessorize with air fresheners and glitter, but damn straight I'd rock that diaper 24/7 if it'd help. Hence the supplements I'm taking, the acupuncture I have scheduled for next week (so excited), the tests I've brow beaten my OB into performing, etc. Anything I can do to achieve a healthy pregnancy and healthy baby, I'll be all over.

That being said, I don't really know that my OB is on the same page as I am. I love her - she's very nice, extremely competent, and also very unworried. She's confident that it was just a fluke and that I don't need to make any changes for the next pregnancy, especially after all the tests came back normal. She's probably right. But I can't shake the feeling that I need to be doing SOMETHING proactive next time.

So today I called the Maternal-Fetal Medicine department (MFM) and scheduled a consultation. After my water broke, I saw one of the MFM doctors and he had mentioned that while not necessary, I could be a candidate for MFM care next time. Since I haven't felt 100% comfortable with the lack of action plan for next time (other than a couple extra checkups/ultrasounds), I want to explore my other options for care should I get pregnant again. I am not hoping for miracles; I don't think they'll be able to give me answers as to why this happened; I don't think they have some magic test that hasn't already been performed. I am hoping that they'll be more understanding and offer me weekly or bi-weekly checkups and ultrasounds to keep my mind at ease; that they might be more aggressive with treatments (even if unnecessary...if it can't hurt, I want to do it); that they might be more willing to work with an admittedly bat-shit-crazy-paranoid woman (a title which I loathe, but is well-earned).

I told Chris the other day that I have this sinking feeling that our journey isn't over yet and that this will happen to us again...that there is something wrong with me that the HSG and RPL screen didn't pick up. I'm sure that's coming from a place of pure terror and is normal when when something this devastating occurs for seemingly no reason. But in the back of my head, I can't help but think we have to go through this one more time before we get our take home baby. I hope not. I really, really hope that's not the case. I know people who have gone through this more than once and it's so fucking unfair. But they made it through...and I know that if it does, I can too. That being said, please god no.

Where's that crystal ball when you need it??

Lucky

I wasn't sure I'd ever call myself lucky again, but I am, really. I am lucky enough to have some really amazing friends (I also have an amazing family and amazing husband, but that's a post for another day). July 24 was supposed to be my baby shower. My best friends had planned the date well in advance because their jobs don't give them a lot of flexibility, so they had to start early to find a date that would work for everyone. Yesterday, I should have be 34 weeks pregnant, huge, and sharing in excitement and love with my friends and family (while awww-ing over adorable baby clothes, of course). Because they knew it would be a hard date for me, they took me out to celebrate our friendship. We went to dinner, had a few drinks, and then played games* at one of my friend's parent's house. If your friends don't have amazing parents, that might sound weird, but I laughed every minute I was there.

It feels like forever since we lost Caleb, but I still haven't been without him as long as I had been with him. That blows my mind. And it won't be until the very end of August that I'll even reach that milestone. Wow.

*Telestrations. Get it. Best game EVER.

Holiday cheer

I cannot WAIT for the 4th of July! It's my favorite holiday by far. Granted, I will have to deal with seeing the person I was talking about in my previous post (the friend that I've cut out as much as I can), but I'm hopeful that fireworks and s'mores will remedy that. What CAN'T fireworks and s'mores remedy, really? Not much, methinks.

I can't believe how fast this summer is going. It's hard to believe that it's been 10 weeks since I lost Caleb, and that when I was pregnant with him I thought this summer would drag on FOREVER. Not so! His due date is just around the corner...less than two months away. And with it is my birthday. I didn't remember until today how close our birthdays were supposed to be - mine is August 31; his was supposed to be September 3. Damn!! The two will always be associated in my mind.

I've spent most of the last 10 weeks thinking about next time. We've had so much advice from so many friends and family, and I seriously appreciate all the different viewpoints (and trust me, this post is directed at no one in particular...we've been hearing all sides for weeks now!!). Because my cycles were so irregular before - like, it's amazing it happened so fast with Caleb - I'd like to get going sooner rather than later [see: turning 30 in August]. The sad fact is that no matter what, if we get pregnant anytime in the next two years, this next baby (pleasepleaseplease let there be a next baby) wouldn't have been here had Caleb lived. However, I hope that our next child never feels like they are just a replacement, because truly they will have to some extent saved me. I did talk to the doctor about whether waiting any additional time could be beneficial; she assured me that it made no difference whether we waited three or four or five months. There have been some studies that have shown better outcomes if you wait a year or two, but, um, no way [see again: turning 30 in August]. This journey has already been long enough without stretching it out even further by waiting that long to even start trying. And it might take that long to just get pregnant, who knows?? I feel so much joy and hope and the prospect of finishing what we started back with our Big Fat Positive and I know that I'm ready when my body is. But I would never ever pressure Chris into trying if he wasn't ready. Ok...that's a lie. I would totally pressure him. But I'd never ever actually try if he wasn't fully into the idea. The sight of a plus sign on a test is going to be emotional enough; I don't need to feel nervous about his reaction on top of that - the same reason I never threw out the birth control pills before he was ready (despite the suggestions of several friends, an aunt, and a fortune teller.) (Ok, the fortune teller may not have said EXACTLY that but I was trying to convince myself that's what she meant so that it would be FATE that got me pregnant and not me cheating on birth control....who can argue with FATE?) (Well, clearly I can since I talked myself out of it.). Hopefully he comes around to three months; if not, then we'll wait four. In the long run, it's just a month and in the long run, September 3 is just an arbitrary goal that I seriously understand may not - probably won't - happen. I mean, it'd have to happen on our first shot, and while I'm sure Chris's boys are good swimmers, I'm not sure they're THAT good. I'm going to be gutted on September 3 no matter what, and if I have a bit of excitement to look forward to that day, then I'll take it. And if it doesn't happen....well, it'd be just a sprinkle of disappointment on the sundae that is life.

Wait, what?

Worst analogy ever.

In sad news, my mom found out that the college she's worked at the last four years is closing suddenly. She just found out yesterday - after a student called to ask her about it, no less - and school was supposed to start in just a few weeks. They're not sure if they'll be able to pay the teachers for July and August (which was in their contracts). She's completely devastated, and I spent today crying with her. I know it doesn't seem like a huge deal, but especially in this economy, especially in the post-secondary teaching world....it's going to be difficult to find a new position. I know that she just feels like the universe is dumping everything on our family and she's just waiting for the next shoe to drop. Hopefully fate is one-legged and there's not another shoe coming.

Good Lord, what is with these terrible analogies today??

In happy news, it's fricking beautiful out. Like the best weather we've had all year. I kind of want to take the next week off and just lay out back reading and sit on our porch and go camping and hiking and possibly float down a river in a barrel and be outside constantly. Mmmm. Just thinking about that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Is it wrong strongly resent work for keeping me inside during this weather?

Keep on keepin' on

Nothing really worth blogging about has happened recently. I'm almost mostly good. I am still sad. I still cry sometimes. I am excited to try again. I'm terrified to try again. I have pretty much had to cut one specific person out of my life and avoid her (not you, Rachel! Love you!) because I can't stand hearing about or seeing her pregnant. She's quickly approaching the time when we lost Caleb, and seeing her pass by that date is going to be a stab in the heart. If I'm entirely honest, I'm not excited for her. The jealousy and the feeling of unfairness has completely overshadowed any bit of excitement that should exist. Part of it is just who it is...there are other women who are having babies who I AM excited for. Still jealous of, yes, but there exists at least a modicum of excitement as well. Just not for this one person. It's just too unfair.

Chris and I are having a "debate" about when to start trying again. We were cleared to go after three cycles, but he wants to wait four just to be sure. My number one huge gigantic goal is to be pregnant by Caleb's due date, and if we wait four we won't hit that goal. It's unlikely that we'll get lucky enough to hit it waiting three cycles, and with four cycles it's impossible. He can't understand why it means so much to me to be pregnant again by that specific date, and I can't understand why he thinks waiting another cycle will be any safer. Since I need his cooperation, we'll probably wait four. But I'm continuing to try to convince him otherwise. I need some sort of bribery! Sex won't work (I won't have sex with you unless you have sex with me???). He buys himself all the gadgets and electronics he wants. Maybe clean, folded laundry every day so he doesn't have to root through a laundry basket for a pair of boxers? Putting on the "good wife" apron for a little while might just do it.

I just wish that the world wasn't chock full of reminders about what I lost. Example: Yesterday I went to the Summer Arts Festival - a local street fair - with my family, and not only was it apparently Pregnant Women Day, but the entire festival reminded me that last year when we went, Chris and I had just decided to try for a baby later that year so I went with the mindset of finding things for a nursery and child's room. Seeing those same booths this year - the wooden train here, the rubber ducky painting here - was such a slap in the face. HAHA! fate seemed to say, HAHA! Get excited about having a baby and be confident that you'll have one by this time next year and I'll show you!

Yeah, well, curse words and inappropriate hand gesture to you, fate. You sure showed me!

Planning Ahead

When I was pregnant with Caleb, I was extremely superstitious. I didn't buy anything for him until well into my second trimester. I didn't want to jinx anything. By the time my water broke, I had purchased a few outfits, but everything I had for him fit into one small box that is now packed up at my mom's house waiting for baby number two.*

I've always loved baby things, and started keeping a bookmark folder full of things I loved - toys, nursery decor, clothes, furniture - well before I was pregnant. Like maybe two years before I got pregnant (don't tell my husband!!). I came close to deleting it after Caleb died, but instead just renamed it and moved it so I wouldn't see it every day. After a month or so, I started slowly saving new things to it. Just one here, one there...but it was a start.

Yesterday I got an email that Threadless was having one of their rare $10 sales. Threadless is a community-based t-shirt design company, and on any given day there's a 90% chance that either my brother or my sister is wearing one of their t-shirts and a 60% chance that they both are (sometimes the same design). I don't wear t-shirts, but when I discovered that they sell onsies and kid's tees, I was beyond excited. So cute! When I found out I was pregnant with Caleb, I started stalking the Threadless site, waiting for one of those sales. The sale never happened in the five months that I was pregnant, so Caleb never got his Threadless onsies.

When I got the email, my heart leapt - and then sank. I had no reason to buy them.

But then. Then I had a revelation. Last time I was so cautious. I did everything "right." And a fat lot of good that did me. So screw it. I was going to take advantage of that $10 sale. And I was going to do it now, before the designs I loved so much went out of production.



And I did. I bought my next baby some onesies and some baby tees. I can't worry about what might happen next time. I am going to fully embrace the next pregnancy and the next baby and not be so superstitious. World, you will know when I'm pregnant the second the pee dries on the stick. I'm not wasting a moment before celebrating.

And maybe I'll have another loss. Maybe there won't be a next baby. I hope there will, but maybe there won't. And if that happens...well, I suppose the clothes will go to a niece or nephew. But I can't let that fear control me. I did last time, and I regret it.

So yes. I bought my as-of-yet-nonexistent-2nd-baby some clothes. And it felt great.



*I kind of love the idea that the next baby will have hand-me-downs from his or her older brother - just like in a regular, non-dead-baby family!

Around the corner

It's been a really good week. Being so confident in the upcoming tests has done amazing things for my emotional well-being. There are only two possible outcomes: they find something, or they don't. And I'll be thrilled with either one. If they find something, we can fix it. If they don't find anything, then it really was just a terrible fluke and chances are it won't happen again. At least it shouldn't. I made great strides with karma over the weekend by making a preschooler's LIFE by giving her a pack of glow sticks (which she continually called glue sticks, only adding to the adorableness). It wasn't perfect. I felt a few pangs of loss when playing with her 7-month-old brother, who is doing his part in keeping the cute baby tradition alive in their household with his easy smile and eight-mile-long eyelashes and giant blue eyes. Seeing his dad interact with him took me straight to how Chris would have been with Caleb. Carrying his car seat into the restaurant where I ate with his mom and dad was a physical reminder of what I should have had. Changing his diaper, pinching his toes, tickling his chubby legs...I should have had that. I want that. I hate that I don't have that. But knowing that the testing is being done gives me confidence that I will have that. It just won't be with my first baby boy, Caleb. Which is unfair. So flipping unfair. But I will have it with his little brothers and sisters. (However, despite this leap forward, I haven't made it so far as to unhide all my pregnant and new mom friends from Facebook. One thing at a time!)

But it was a very normal holiday weekend. I hung out with my family, I hung out with friends, I even got to hang out with my husband a bit! There was no crying. There was a lot of laughing. The raw open edges of my heart have worn away to a dull ache...always there, but not always causing pain. Normal. I can haz it.

Lost with no answers

Ha! I tricked you. Based on the post title, I'm sure you thought this was going to be another sad, from-the-heart post.

Well, it's kind of from the heart. If writing about the ending of the show I watched faithfully for six years counts.

And to recap, I'll just say:

WHAT?

Seriously, writers. I've seen "Titanic." I realize that you just ripped the end scene in the sideways world straight from the last scene in Titanic. Titanic: Rose returns to the ship, walks down the stairs to see everyone who died when the ship went down waiting for her, she shakes hands and hugs, there's a bright light, and end scene. Lost: Jack goes to the church, walks in the door to see everyone who was on the island with him waiting for him, he shakes hands and hugs, there's a bright light, and end scene.

I did like the way the story ended on island time, with nearly the exact same scene as the first scene in the pilot episode played in reverse.

But could it have been more open-ended? What happened to the six who escaped on the plane? What happened to Hurley and Ben? Just...WHAT HAPPENED????

UGH. I feel like the sideways ending was such a cop out. Lame.

Mountains and valleys

Yesterday was a rough day. Thank god for Chris...he pulled me through with dinner and Family Guy. There wasn't any one thing that happened that made me so sad; the grief just randomly comes and punches you in the (babyless) gut, and the tears start rolling. Sometimes I think I'm crying because I miss Caleb, sometimes because I miss being pregnant, sometimes because I WANT to be pregnant, sometimes because I'm so scared to try again, sometimes because I fear not being able to get pregnant again, and sometimes because I worry that if I do get pregnant that this will happen again. And sometimes just because.

I think that as it gets further away from Caleb's birthday that the sad times actually hit harder. It seems backwards, but all the happy, normal times between the sad times made those times all the more difficult. When you're low already, as I was in the days following his birth, going a little lower doesn't make much of a difference. Getting hit by a train isn't so different than getting hit by a bus. But when you're feeling happy, going low just hurts so much more.

Aruba was definitely a high point. We went with great people, and for much of the time I was able to feel normal and not like a Dead Baby Mama.

I saw some enormous iguanas, which are all over the island...


...including this poor guy, who clearly had a rough life - missing part of his tail and one of his front feet!


I saw blue parrot fish and puffer fish.




I fed the flamingos (which aren't native, just part of the hotel's attractions).






They are LOUD (and frankly, kind of dumb).


I saw the biggest hermit crab EVER.


I saw this bird (I think a dove?) with a target around his eye begging some kid to shoot his eye out.


I went on a pirate ship.


I went on a party bus.


I had some drinks (but surprisingly, did not get wasted at any point, though looking at the second picture you might beg to differ).




Unlike, say, these guys.


(Don't ask.)

I wore a ridiculous hat, which I did not need booze to be persuaded to do. Chris, however, was slightly drunk at this point. And not happy that I slapped a sombrero on his head. And then forced him to take a picture.




I wrote our names on the wall (and in a corner, secretly wrote Caleb's name too).


Chris managed to get burned while reading on the beach despite the fact that he was completely in the shade AND it was dusk.


We booked a couple's massage on a private island off the coast. Okay, it wasn't really private, there were probably 100 people there. But it was a huge and everyone was spread out, and you had to be a hotel guest (or pay an exorbitant fee for a massage like we did) to access the island. You got there by grabbing a speedboat taxi on the mainland. It was absolutely beautiful and so serene. The first two pictures are of the little massage hut, and the last one is of the island itself. (And I probably shouldn't say that this was our second massage of the trip, should I?)






Let me just say that getting Chris to enjoy a good massage is one of the best things I've ever done.

Lastly, we enjoyed lots of beautiful sunsets.


(Note the boob tan in that picture. Eeek.)




Aruba really IS "One Happy Island," and thank god, because that's exactly what I needed.